Miracle
by Don't Mess With Aria
Summary: Shep finds herself accidentally pregnant, and now she and Garrus have to deal with the situation. WARNING: this was for the kmeme and the prompt was "Shep gets an abortion." So, seriously, don't read this if you don't want that story. Possible trigger warning for abuse-like behavior.
1. Chapter One

Had to revise this quite a lot. The first part, the previously-posted part, has been expanded and i now two chapters. The third chapter is the new part.

* * *

Shep sighed quietly as she leaned into Garrus. Tonight was their first night watching a movie in their very own apartment. Which was their first apartment, and tonight they had also had their first fancy dinner in it. The Reapers were gone, and they were finally allowed to see if they had a real relationship outside of the whole we're-gonna-die-who's-closest desperation of war. They were finding that they did, and Shepard found herself counting firsts.

"I love you," Garrus rumbled.

Shepard smiled, snuggling closer on the couch. "I love you too, big guy."

Garrus's hand slid down her shoulder to her backside, and he moved her so that she was straddling his lap.

_First time we've had girl-on-top on our couch,_ Shep checked off mentally, chuckling.

"What's so funny?"

"Just how happy I am. I've never …" Shep paused, trying to find the right words that didn't leave her too vulnerable. "I've never felt so content."

"Hmm … I could be just a little more content …." Garrus said, flicking his mandibles in a quick smiled before grazing her neck with his teeth.

"Mmm … now that you mention it, I could be a little more content, too." She wrapped her legs around his waist as he stood up, carrying her into the bedroom. Their bedroom had gotten more use than any other room in the apartment so far; now that they were free from larger concerns, it seemed they couldn't get enough of each other.

#

Garrus panted heavily, rolling off of her. She moved closer to him immediately, sprawling across him in that adorable way she had.

_She hardly weighs a thing,_ Garrus thought. He'd never considered going outside his species before he'd met her, and now all kinds of things that he thought he'd never get used to were just part of the enchantment of knowing her. She weighed almost nothing. She barely came up to his chest when they were standing together. And her smell … spirits, she smelled like no one else, turian or human, that he'd ever met. He rested a hand on her belly.

_If only,_ he thought before shutting it down. She would never bear a turian child, and that was fine. They could adopt, they could still raise their family. Shep wasn't ready yet, but she had said she wanted to make sure they were stable. The galaxy was rebuilding, they had they apartment now, and while Garrus still needed to get through his Spectre training, Shep was already a Spectre and they would both have good jobs. Good jobs that would allow them a fairly free schedule; they shouldn't have a problem making sure someone was home to raise their children. He almost couldn't wait to start raising a family with her; he thought he his life would be complete at that point, no matter that the children wouldn't look like them.

"You hungry?" he asked her, chuffing lightly when she made a pained face; she was the Shepard, she was always hungry.

"Famished. Why, you making something?" She poked him playfully in the chest.

"Well, you made dinner; it's only fair. Quit poking me," he mock-roared, rolling over to pin her underneath him. "you'd better be careful."

"Or what?" She tried to give her defiant look, but the effect was somewhat ruined by sex-mussed curls falling into her eyes.

"Or I will have to just keep you in here all night, screaming my name," he rumbled. His hands roamed over her body as she started squealing protests at him.

"Hey – I'm too hungry, I can't –" His talons found her ribs and he tickled her for a minute, listening to her breathless laughter in between attempts to threaten him with bodily harm. "Kill you … deader'n a varren with –"

Garrus stopped for a moment, petting her hair as she caught her breath. "I love you, you know." His tone was low and serious. Since she had woken up in the hospital, he had been so afraid. Afraid that her agreement to raise children with him was just a before-the-battle promise, signifying nothing. Afraid that the whole thing would fall apart once they didn't have an enemy to both be aiming at.

Once there was time to really understand each other.

But she was here, she was with him, and she just needed a little more stability before they started their family.

"I'll go make you something to eat," he promised, bumping her forehead with hers.

"Thirty percent dextro," she reminded him.

"I know, I know." There had been some research into acclimating to different chiralities. Shepard being Shepard, she immediately decided she would have to try it. He couldn't let her try it alone, so he had also begun spiking his food with small amounts of hers. After the first experiment had left him cold, shaking, and empty on the bathroom floor, she had told him he wasn't allowed to try again. He'd conceded gratefully, but Shepard wasn't giving up on her experiment yet. So far, she had only mild stomach aches when they upped the percentage. Now taking down pots and pans, he started on something that he could add a little dextro-based meat to without ruining the flavor. Shep padded after him a few minutes later, wearing nothing but one of his tunics.

"That's mine," he protested good-naturedly.

"Take it from me," she challenged.

"Don't tempt me. I thought you were hungry."

"I am. I'll play nice." She hopped up onto one of their barstools she was so fond of; Garrus always felt like he was going to fall off of them. But, she'd wait there while he was cooking then move to the dining table with him.

#

Shep watched him work, wondering why he'd never bought a different apron. He was still wearing the silly pink one he'd had around Christmas. She didn't mind, though; she was just happy he seemed to like doing most of the cooking. If it were up to her skills, they'd be eating things from plastic wrappers most of the time.

"So, what'd you make?" she asked as he started plating from two different pans. Everything that was levo-safe- plates, pans, dishes- was green or had green accents. All the full-dextro stuff was orange.

"Something my mother used to make. It's not kid-food, but you'll like it."

Garrus set the plates down at the table and sat down, waiting for Shepard to trot over. She stopped with one hand on the back of her chair, as the other hand moved to her stomach.

"Shep, what's wrong? Did I –" Shepard didn't wait to hear the end of his question as she was sprinting to the bathroom, one hand over her mouth. She just had time to slam the door and run the water before she started heaving.

_This will not be the first time Garrus hears me puking._ after her stomach was mostly empty, she had time to wonder what it was that set her off. Ordinarily she had an iron stomach; smells were never a problem, although whatever he'd made apparently was. When she was done, she stood on trembling legs and washed her face before opening the door.

Garrus was waiting just outside the bathroom. She saw the anxiety on his face before he deliberately relaxed his mandibles and cracked a joke.

"Well, I guess I won't try that dish again," he said.

Shep laughed, then winced. "Oh, ow. Don't make me laugh, my stomach still hurts."

Garrus pulled her into a gentle hug, brushing his mouth-plates against her forehead. "I'll make you some plain soup."

"Thirty percent dextro, still."

Garrus paused on his way back to the kitchen. "Shep, no. You just went to thirty today, and now you're sick. Let's take it back to twenty-five for tonight."

"Come on, Garrus. I'm trying to develop a tolerance, I can't go backwards here."

"Why don't you just go back to levo? You don't need to be able to eat dextro."

"Don't you want me to be able to share food with you? And not worry about … other things?" Shep smiled as he squirmed. It wasn't fair, but she knew he couldn't concentrate once she referenced some of the benefits of her being able to tolerate dextro proteins.

"Twenty-five, Shep, or I'll start hiding the dextro stuff entirely. I'll try levo again, and _you_ can make _me_ soup." He stood, staring her down. He knew he was the only person who could argue with her on anything, especially on something like taking care of herself. But the trick was to never drop your eyes; if she smelled weakness, you'd already lost. "You can try thirty again tomorrow, if you're feeling better."

"Why do you always try to protect me?" Shep asked, hands on her hips in mock exasperation.

"Because you're worth protecting," he answered, drawing her close for another hug.

"Twenty-five tonight, but tomorrow I try thirty again," she said. "Now go make me soup, I'm hungry." She swatted at his backside and Garrus skittered away playfully.

"Yes, Mistress. Right away, Mistress. Anything at all my Mistress desires."

"Mistress wants you to can it," Shep said, now in the living room and settling into the couch. She let her head loll back on the cushions, not realizing she had fallen asleep until Garrus woke her by bringing the soup to her.

"Commander Shepard, accidentally falling asleep? Eat your soup, love, then you're going straight to bed."

"I'm not really tired, I'm just –"

"Straight to bed," he said again, in a voice which brooked no argument. He handed her the bowl of soup, listening to her grumble slightly and he stood and waited.

Shep looked up at him, reading the anxiety that was now clear on his face, unable to be hidden. This was the first time he'd seen her downed with no apparent cause. She'd been shot, burned, had broken limbs, and on one occasion been poisoned pretty badly, but this was the first time he'd seen her sick.

#

It wasn't the last. No sooner had he tucked her into bed and lain down next to her, she was flinging blankets away and running for the bathroom again. After the third time she had to get up, she stopped leaving the bathroom. Every few minutes he would knock, only slightly reassured when she answered that she was still alive. At midnight, he'd finally decided he was going to call an ambulance and hack the bathroom door, but then  
she came out, looking pale and done-in.

"Spirits, Shep. Come on, I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No, no. 'M done now," she muttered. Garrus hovered close as she walked slowly to the bed.

_Please don't fall, please don't fall,_ he thought. He helped get her under the blankets and sheets, noting that her arms seemed too weak to do it herself. "Is this how humans normally get sick?" Spirits, this was horrible.

"No, this is … this one's pretty violent. Might be food poisoning."

Garrus stopped what he was doing, letting the blue afghan she'd bought them drop. "The dextro. That's it, Shep, you're stopping, not one more bite –"

"Not dextro, you goof. Bad chicken or something. It happens. I'll be better tomorrow, okay?"

"If you're not –"

"I will be," she murmured. She was already half-asleep, only awake still to tell him it would be alright. He raised the afghan again and finished making her comfortable.

"Go to sleep, love," he whispered, then slipped into bed beside her. Before falling asleep, he opened the extranet on his omni-tool, wanting to be sure "food poisoning" wasn't just something she was telling him to make him stop worrying. Undercooked chicken, it turned out, was frequently the culprit. She'd made chicken for her part of dinner tonight; he obviously hadn't had any of that, sticking instead to the meats he was used to for his meal. That was the last time he'd let her cook anything, he decided. It'd be safer for everyone if he did all the cooking from now on.

#

Both Garrus's distress and resolution were forgotten about by the next morning, when he woke to the smell of breakfast already being made. He stumbled out into the kitchen to find Shep dancing, still wearing his tunic but now with a personal music player hooked on her. She was also singing quietly while she made two pans of eggs. He snuck up behind her and had to quickly defend against an elbow.

"Sorry, Garrus, habit." She pulled the earphones out and let the music play out loud, stretching up to her tip-toes to kiss him good morning.

"I see you're feeling better," he said.

"Much."

They sat down once the eggs were ready, Garrus with a plate of bacon and Shep with a stack of pancakes. His food was 100% dextro-based, and he had a suspicion that she was at thirty percent or higher on her meal; the woman would not be slowed, it only pissed her off.

"Got a call this morning," Shep garbled through a mouthful of pancake. "Stupid Alliance thing. Reminded them I was off for another month."

"What do they want now, that no one else can do?" Garrus groused.

"I don't know. Hackett lost his lucky hat or something," she joked.

"In the middle of a mercenary base?" he asked.

"Surrounded by thresher maws." They both laughed at that, knowing that she wasn't going to end up with the full vacation, anyway. She was insisting on the time off now, but as soon as they called with something they actually did need The Shepard for, he knew she would have to go. The moment she did, he was going to start on the path to being a Spectre, finally. It wasn't exactly what he wanted; to be perfectly honest, his ideal would involve one of them at home, raising their adopted children, while the other got some safe desk job and spent all their off hours with the family. Well, in a few months, they would talk again about when they would have kids. He'd be willing to work or stay home, whichever set-up she preferred; as long as someone was with them, he didn't mind who; although he'd prefer to have both of them home and doing nothing but child-rearing, spending time with each other, and just enjoying themselves. They'd put enough work into saving the galaxy already; they deserved to retire early.

"So, what's on the docket today?" he asked once breakfast was done.

"Gotta grab some groceries, run some errands. Thought we'd rendezvous for dinner?"

"Sounds good. You mind if I take you out somewhere?"

"That sounds great," she said, grabbing the plates and glasses and moving them to the sink. She didn't rinse them and Garrus felt his mandibles trying to creep into a smile. She tried, she really did. She was just no good at cleaning. Or cooking, really, if last night was any indication. But, she picked up most of the outside-of-the-house duties, so it was okay.

"Wanna jump in the shower with me before I take off?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows, a gesture half-seductive and half-ridiculous.

"Try and stop me," he mock-growled, picking her up and carrying her away.

#

"So, where are you taking me?" Shep asked again. She hated waiting for surprises. Why bother? May as well just tell the person what you were doing; there was always a chance the surprisee wouldn't like it, then the surpriser would be cranky ….

"You'll see," he said. Shep couldn't help smiling; piloting their own little aircar (their first!), taking her out somewhere with no chance of husks or reapers ruining the night, he looked so happy.

The surprise dinner turned out to be a picnic, she saw. He brought the car to a little open park, and started unloading a red-checked blanket and traditional woven picnic basket, just like in the old vids. He'd even brought champagne. She had to laugh as she knelt down on the blanket. If someone had told her a year ago that she'd be on a damn picnic, not to mention enjoying it, she would have laughed in their face.

Enjoying the picnic lasted only a few minutes, though, as once Garrus had brought out the deviled eggs, she had to scramble behind a bush before she threw up on the tray. Why was this happening? Shame flooded her face as she felt Garrus's hands rubbing her back and sweeping the hair out of her eyes.

"Lemme 'lone," she muttered.

"It's okay, Shep, it'll be alright," he soothed, ignoring her wish for privacy. She wanted to be mad at him, but having her back rubbed just felt so nice.

Once she was finished for a while, he started packing stuff back into the car without comment or complaint, leaving the blanket for her to rest on until they were about to leave.

"I'm sorry, Garrus. I ruined it."

"It's not your fault, love. Should I run and get something for nausea so I can drive you home?"

"No, I think I'll … oh, wait …." She ran for her bush again, wondering how she kept getting sick long after her stomach was emptied. At a break point, Garrus picked her up, carefully placing her into the car and buckling her in.

"No more dextro," he said. "I mean it this time."

"I guess you're right. But I don't understand; I was fine this morning." She was going to keep arguing, but her eyes were drifting closed. She thought he might be saying something, but she was asleep before she could puzzle it out.

#

The next day, she seemed better again, which somehow, was only worrying him more. He made her rest, bringing her blankets and soup and crackers. He wouldn't let her move around much, and didn't let her into the kitchen at all. He was scrupulously careful to keep any dextro proteins away from her, even so far as refusing to give her a good-morning kiss on the lips. He knew she wasn't happy, but he was starting to panic and didn't know why. Something about the way he kept fluffing the couch cushions for her reminded him of something, but he couldn't tell what.

Shep, for her part, was cooperating as well as she could. He knew she hated it all, the being fussed over, the keeping still. He was pretty sure that his frenetic energy was making her anxious, though; she hardly protested anything.

He'd made her a very simple meal for her dinner, just plain chicken (quite nearly overcooked) and plain rice. He'd expected her to complain a little, but she took it meekly. It was the mildest thing he could make for her. It was what they gave humans who were deathly ill. Almost no one was able to get sick from plain rice and properly-cooked chicken.

Shep did. It was violent; he could hear her over the running water. When she was finally done, he was waiting. He got her dressed to take her to the hospital. By this point, she didn't even argue, and that worried him more than anything else. He carried her into the hospital and tried to clutch her to him when the medical staff took her away. He had to let go, though; there was no way for him to help her with this. If he wanted her better, he had to let her go.

_Please don't die again,_ he thought as they took her out of his arms, hiding her away from him and leaving him suddenly alone and scared in the waiting room.

#

"You've been getting sick at _same_ time?" the salarian doctor asked.

"I got sick tonight, and I got sick last ni – wait, I know what you're thinking. Not possible." Shepard's hand clenched into a fist. Even though she put little thought into children whenever Garrus wasn't bringing up the topic, it was still the first thing she thought. Didn't morning sickness need to happen in the morning?

"Form of birth control?" the doctor asked, typing into a tablet.

"How about sleeping with a completely different species?" she spat. How dare this quack scare her?

"Okay. Will run test. Just to be sure." He gave her a smile, then; the patronizing doctor-knows-best smile that they all knew how to use.

"I'm not lying!" she exploded, face growing warm.

"Of course. Patients never lie to doctors. Will be back." The salarian left the room, then, while Shep sat and worried. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't.

What if it was? Garrus would –

No. She wasn't going to think about impossibilities. The doctor would come back and tell her she wasn't pregnant, then give her a round of anti-biotics or something. That was all.

The doctor was back within a few minutes, with a smug look on his face that left Shep in disbelief.

"How?" she asked.

"Pregnant. If didn't have fertilized eggs implanted, likely happened the usual way for your species. Lie down, please. Will have to check health of fetus."

"But I didn't –"

"Not my business." The doctor sat down on a rolling stool, scooting up close to the exam table. An asari nurse followed him wheeling in a machine with a screen on it and started setting it up.

"It's going to be your first look," she said. "Should I go bring your bondmate in? He's been asking about you."

"No." Shepard shook her head. How the hell was she going to explain this? Maybe Cerberus had done it. Sure. Maybe it was time-released or something.

"Oh," the nurse said. A blush appeared; apparently she had realized that this wasn't planned, or what the implications of that would be.

_Great, so now I'm a cheater, and I didn't even do anything._

"If you want, I can bring you some headphones for music," the nurse offered. "The screen is also not positioned correctly, Doctor." She adjusted the view screen so that it wasn't pointed directly at Shepard.

"No, that's fine." She had to at least know what was going on. She had to know what to tell Garrus. _If I tell him anything._ She shook her head. That wouldn't be right. Would it? It would save an argument.

The doctor had started running his plastic wand over her belly, spreading the warm gel he had already put there. "Interesting," he said. "Nurse, come look, please."

Fear gripped Shepard. "What's wrong?"

"A moment."

The asari looked carefully at the screen. "That isn't –"

"Right here," the doctor said, indicating the screen. "Do you see?"

"Yes, I do … how would we confirm that it's …" she glanced quickly to Shepard before deciding to rephrase. "That it's _that_ and not something else?"

"Amnio will tell. Early, though. Not recommended. With high risk … unsure. Unclear on protocol."

"Would _someone_ mind telling the patient what's going on?" Shep demanded. She could feel a low thrum in her muscles, but refused to let her terror manifest as trembling. She was The Shepard.

The doctor looked at her, as if only just remembering she was in the room. She could read the surprise on his face, even though she'd never been skilled at reading salarian faces. He turned the screen towards her without saying anything, and Shepard's breath stopped in her throat. On the screen was the hard-to-read blobbiness that ultrasounds always seemed to show, then the doctor adjusted the wand and she was able to make out its head.

Topped with a not-yet-fully-formed, but clearly turian crest on its head.

"Shall I get your bondmate now?" the nurse asked excitedly.


	2. Chapter Two

Had to revise this quite a lot. The first part, the previously-posted part, has been expanded and i now two chapters. The third chapter is the new part.

* * *

Garrus was starting to panic that they wouldn't tell him what was wrong. He paced, he asked every few minutes, they threatened to throw him out (until he let them know exactly who he was), but they wouldn't tell him what was wrong.

"She's going to be fine," yet another human nurse was saying, but the way he looked at him when he said it … Garrus would have given everything he owned for one turian nurse to be there. He couldn't read these humans at all.

Garrus would have been willing to bet he'd been there for days, but only a couple hours later, she was walking towards him again, and for the first time in a long while, he couldn't read her, either. He had learned every nuance of her face, he knew every expression she used, but he didn't know what this one was. She slowly walked up to him, putting her arms around him, and he hugged her back, gently so he wouldn't hurt her.

"Shepard, tell me, you're not going to – Shep, please tell me you're not leaving me like this again." _Spirits, please. I can't do it again._

"What? No, nothing like that. They gave me some anti-nausea stuff, we can go home."

She headed for the door, still clearly a little light-headed, but no worse off than he'd seen her a dozen times before. But still ….

"Shep." He grabbed her wrist loosely, asking her not to walk away from him. "Shep, I'm not going to be able to stop panicking until you explain to me what was wrong. I … I have to know you're not dying on me." He hated to play that card. It felt manipulative, knowing that she would be unable to deliberately cause him worry. He expected something awful, something that would entail months or even a lifetime of illness. He tried to prepare himself. Whatever it was, he would stand by her. But spirits, it was like his mother all over again.

When she finally spoke, he wasn't prepared.

"I'll tell you when we get home, big guy."

#

He gripped the wheel tightly. She knew he was anxious, and she wouldn't tell him. She wasn't dying, he told her that he needed to know, and she wasn't telling him. What could possibly be so bad –

He kept glancing over to her and she sat in the car on the ride home. She was leaning against the door. Was she trying to get as far away from him as possible, or was she just resting while gazing out the window? Why wouldn't she tell him?

She was going to tell him. She had said as soon as they got home, right?

She didn't. Garrus rushed ahead to unlock the door, rushed back to help her out of the car. He'd made sure she was comfortable on the couch and then started making her food; she was still starving, she'd said, but she should be able to handle food now. Then she ate, deliberately taking her time as Garrus died a thousand deaths, waiting to hear what it was that had her so reluctant to just tell him, tell him, tell him.

#

Shep put her sandwich down after each bite. This was not something she had ever expected, and if Garrus was panicking, it was nothing to the wild thoughts that were screaming through her mind as she kept her face carefully blank. Her first thought had actually been to go get killed. Go after some pirates, solo; that would solve everything.

Except Garrus. She watched him trying to keep it together and knew that her dying could never be a solution. But what was, though?

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out. Garrus froze next to her. After a moment, his mouth started working silently.

_Yup, that's about how I reacted, too._ She knew it was supposed to be impossible. She knew the most logical question was going to be when she'd slept with a human man, how often, how many. She knew if he asked that, she was going to be devastated. She hadn't even looked at anyone else since she had started things with Garrus.

"It's a miracle," he finally said, and she relaxed. How could she even have doubted him?

He scooted forward, placing a hand on her still-flat belly. "You're … spirits, you're going to have my baby. I'm going to be a father, this is incredible."

"Easy, big guy, it might … it might not be able to survive. The doctors don't even know how this happened, but my bet is Cerberus accidentally installed some extras back when they fixed me up."

"I don't care how. I've … spirits, Shep, I had thought having my own, being a real father was something I was giving up to be with you. Now to find out I can have that, as well …." He gently cupped her face, wanting her to see him clearly as he spoke. "This is more than I could have hoped for."

"Garrus, there's still a lot to think about."

"Of course." He jumped up from the couch and started pacing. "We'll have to buy a crib … we'll need to look into some kind of specialist, I don't know that this has even happened before … first we need to make sure our so — or, I mean, dau – Shep, do we know if we're having a boy or girl?"

"Genetic scan indicated female," she said. This was not the reaction she had expected. In the absolute best case scenario for the pregnancy, they would still end up with a baby that would require a hell of a lot more work than most parents would expect. What would it even eat?

"A daughter," Garrus crooned happily. Shep could hear him unconsciously purring, completely lost in the fantasy of happy family life that she didn't think they were getting. Why didn't he understand? He was just rushing off into an idea that wasn't going to work out.

He sat down again to put his hand back on her belly. "I … I want to name her after my mother. Is that … is that okay?" he asked.

Shep looked at him. How long would it take to talk this out, to make him understand that this wasn't some amazing miracle, this was going to be horrible. They would have a sickly child who shouldn't be alive. The three of them would spend all their time in the hospital, trying to keep it from dying.

"Garrus," she started, but then he dragged his eyes off her belly to look at her face, and he was just so full of wonder, so confident that everything was going to just work out, because he wanted it to – "Garrus, I need to go take a walk." Then she got up, grabbed her N7 hoodie from the coatrack by the door, and was gone.

#

Shep ended up wandering, eventually finding a park and just sitting down on a bench. This was ridiculous. She was carrying some … _thing_ that shouldn't even exist, and Garrus was just over the moon. It wasn't going to work. It couldn't. It was just going to make them love it, and then it was going to die.

_Just like the rest of them. Just like Mindoir._ Shep shook her head. She had only just stopped having the nightmares again, she wasn't going to allow them to start back up. This … this _thing_ wasn't supposed to live. And what if it did? What if, by some miracle, it came out alive and healthy? Her sisters had been healthy, when –

_No, stop it. Focus on now._ It was going to be sick, at the very least. Turian and human biology weren't even supposed to mix. She probably couldn't eat enough nutrients to get the damn thing to term, let alone healthily. Shit, her own blood should be killing it. Then, the trauma of birth, some sport trying to breathe, and did turians even birth the same way? And what hospital would know how to treat it? If it needed medication for anything, it would be a guessing game. What would its immune system be? It would probably catch something, and the antibodies she gave it wouldn't be able to even help. Then if it did survive, she could see it being kidnapped. She was still Most Wanted by the batarians, at least. They would take it away and torture it just to hurt her. She wouldn't be able to save it. _I mean, Garrus can at least take care of himself. He's turian, he's a freaking giant, a ridiculously skilled sniper, and amazing at hand-to-hand besides. If I let my guard down for a second, someone will snatch it away from me. I can't be a mother._

_Shit._ Garrus was going to be crushed. They had been discussing children, and she had told him she wasn't ready yet. She'd thought it was true. _I can't do this._

#

After she left, Garrus only stared at the closed door for a moment. Then he slapped his face into his hand. Poor Shep; he should have realized what a huge thing this was and made sure she wasn't freaking out too badly. He'd have to apologize. He browsed on his omni-tool for a few minutes before finding a brand-new, top of the line mod for her favorite assault rifle, ordering it for immediate delivery without giving the cost more than a glance. He knew most human women liked flowers, but the idea of giving his Shep a bouquet – well, there was always a chance the pregnancy would soften her, temporarily. He would love to be able to bring her flowers, little presents, something to show he knew she was a woman (his woman) as well as a warrior. _Tell her that. Tell her it'd be nice if she was a wilting little flower, sometimes; see what happens._ Garrus snorted. That's not exactly how he'd mean it, but it'd be hard for her not to hear that. He just wished she wasn't so completely self-sufficient, all the time. Let him pamper her sometimes, just a little. Traditional mating gifts, from either of their cultures. But for now, the weapons mod would make a decent apology gift.

Present ordered, Garrus got up and just wandered the apartment for a few minutes, wondering what to do. He kept picking things up and putting them down. He cleaned a little, decided to rearrange the furniture, then put it all back. Then he barked a short laugh as he remembered his confusion yesterday over fixing Shep's couch cushions and blankets; he was trying to make his pregnant mate comfortable, before he even knew he knew. "A daughter," he sighed, sitting heavily on the couch once more. A daughter who would be both turian and human, and neither; a living example of her parents' love for each other. He wondered how turian she would be, and how human. Would she wrestle and roughhouse like any other turian, or might she grow up more like human children? He browsed some parenting sites on the extranet while he waited for his Shep, wanting to know what a half-human child might be like. Ridiculous amounts of stuffed animals. Pink and frills and princess dresses. Tea parties! Garrus had never considered that someday the thought of his child putting a tiara on him and making him drink pretend tea and make conversation with stuffed varren and princess dolls would make his heart _ache_ so, but it did. Maybe someday, they would also have a son, a little brother for her – He fell asleep on the couch, dreaming of a whole family of little turian-human hybrids, some with his blue eyes, some with her grey. And every one of them wearing their markings proudly.

He woke some time later to the sound of the door closing quietly. Shep stood by it still, not moving any further into the room. He broke into a wide grin, not caring how silly he looked. His mate was home. He started to get up to go to her, but she held a hand up, and he sank back into the couch.

"Shep? Shep, I'm sorry I didn't realize this would be so unsettling. I wasn't thinking. But we're going to make amazing parents. Shep, I just love you so –"

"I'm not keeping it," she said quietly.

"What?" he asked. For a long moment, he was confused. Why would they give up their child? Who would they give her to? Then, her meaning hit him and he mandibles fell slack in shock.

"Shep, you can't mean that."

"I'm not keeping it," she repeated, then shed her jacket and shoes and went to the bedroom. Garrus was rooted to the couch, unable to move for a time. When he finally caught up with her, she had already changed into her pajamas and gone to bed. His visor told him she wasn't asleep, however, so he turned on a light.

"Shep, I know you're scared," he started, placing a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, not looking at him.

"I'm not scared, I'm just not keeping it."

"Shep, you can't do that," he said helplessly. He knew the wording was a mistake as she sat up and glared at him.

"I can't?" she asked. "I have every legal right –"

"I'm not arguing legalities, Shep, I'm … Shep, please. You can't do that _to me._ Having a family with my bondmate, with you, Shep – this is everything to me. Everything I've wanted. Maybe the timing isn't perfect, but a turian-human hybrid – Shep, we may not get another chance. You can't just get rid of our child –"

"It's not a child yet." Her face had gone blank, leaving Garrus mystified. If she wasn't scared of raising their daughter –

"She will be, though. She'll be our beautiful little daughter, Shep, and we'll be a complete family, and –"

"No."

"Well, why not?" He had to fight to keep his tone modulated. This wasn't fair. He had to make her see that, this was his _child_ she was carrying.

"Garrus, there's a reason why this hasn't ever happened before. It's not supposed to. It's a mistake. Garrus, you can't really want to watch it living in an incubator its whole life, only to die before its first birthday."

"She," he corrected. She, not it. His daughter, not some neutral clerical error.

"It would have a bad life, and that would kill you." Her face softened some, but there was something under the expression, something – it was her diplomat face, the one she used when she was talking someone into believing that black was white, up was down, whatever she had to do to complete her mission.

"That isn't why you don't want to raise this baby with me. Tell me why, Shep."

Her lip curled briefly before her face smoothed out again; he knew she wasn't used to not being able to argue her point.

"I told you as a courtesy, Garrus. The decision's been made. I have an appointment in the morning."

He blinked, stunned. How could she – Didn't she care that – She had no intention of even discussing – Didn't his feelings count for –

"I absolutely forbid you to murder my child," he said flatly.

Her eyes darkened, suddenly stormy instead of the placid grey he was used to. "You better rethink that policy, big guy, if you're planning on sleeping in here."

Garrus got up, tearing half the blankets from the bed and grabbing his pillow. "I wouldn't sleep with you if my other choice were sleeping naked with a pack of rabid varren." He stormed away, slamming the bedroom door and collapsed on the couch, shaking. His child, his daughter.

They could still fix this. They had to fix this. He heard the bedroom door lock and a surge of anger flooded him_. As if any lock in this house could keep me out if I didn't want it to!_

_Anger isn't productive. You'll just end up saying something stupider._ He cursed himself, wondering why he had tried to forbid her instead of making her understand. He would let her cool down. Speak to her again in the morning. She would see reason.

She had to.

Garrus lay down, spreading the blankets over himself and missing her warmth already. He knew he wasn't going to sleep, but that seemed alright. He couldn't afford to miss her leaving in the morning.

#

Shep turned, feeling gritty dirt underneath her cheek. That wasn't right, was it? She raised her head.

The smell of charred flesh let Shep know she was back on Mindoir. At least these days she knew she was dreaming when it happened. All she had to do was wake herself up before she forgot she was dreaming, then -

"_Mama!"_ The light harmonics under the voice got her attention, and she started running. Barefoot and wearing a simple jumper, she was wearing the same thing she had been the last time it happened. No, the only time it actually happened. This wasn't happening again, she was an adult, she was just dreaming –

But she was still running towards the sound of her daughter's voice.

"Gotcha," someone growled as he clamped down on her arm. Shep swung to hit him, but even though she was an adult, she was just as weak as she had been the first time. He batted her hand away, and another batarian came to grab that arm, and they managed to wrestle her to her knees.

"This is all your fault, Shepard."

Shepard could see the batarian ship in the distance; they were marching prisoners onto it. Only children; she'd never understood why she had only seen them take children that day. An odd silhouette appeared, being dragged from behind a building. Her build was mostly turian, but she looked softer than a full turian. Her skin and face were Shepard's, but she didn't have hair, just a softer version of a turian's fringe.

Shepard screamed, trying to lunge forward, but the batarians held her fast. At the same time, her daughter caught sight of her and renewed her own struggles, as well.

"Is this the one?" the batarian holding Shep's daughter asked.

"How many other fucking half-breeds surnamed Shepard-Vakarian did you find, moron?" the batarian on her left answered.

Shep's daughter shrank back as the batarian holding her drew a vicious-looking knife with his other hand.

"Mama." She looked directly to her mother, and Shepard could see she had Garrus's soft blue eyes. She tried to get to her child, but the batarians who were holding her wouldn't let that happen. She fought fruitlessly, digging long furrows into the dirt as she tried to find enough leverage on her knees.

"Mama, save me," her daughter begged. The knife was pressed against her throat, the soft plating that was indicative of her heritage barely visible.

Shep hurled invectives at the batarians, calling them every name she knew, then offering bargains, and finally just begging them not to do it.

"Save me," her child said again, and her voice was overlaid with a billion others she had never managed to save. Her sisters. Jenkins. Williams. Thane. Samara. Joker.

The batarian cut her throat in one motion, and thick dark blood spewed out of her child, nearly red, but dark with a slight tinge of her father's blue. They dropped the body, then they dropped Shepard, walking away.

Shepard crawled toward her, please god she would be fine. Please god, he didn't cut too deep.

Her daughter was dead. Shepard wailed. Not again; why did this keep happening? Why did everyone she loved -

Ice-blue eyes flashed open, and her dead child spoke again, still speaking with the voices of all her failures. "You weren't good enough to save me," she hissed.

Shepard scrambled backwards, hitting her head on the end table before realizing she was back, she was home. Her hand rested on her belly. _It's going to make me love it, and then it's going to die,_ she thought again. And if she talked to Garrus, she would end up keeping it anyway.

#

The bedroom door clicked softly and opened. Garrus's eyes felt heavy and full of sand; they were likely bloodshot. He stood and reminded himself to keep calm, to explain his point, and convince her to just wait. He knew she would understand how much his daughter already meant to him, if he just had time enough to explain. She sidled into the living room before realizing he was already awake. Her chin lifted in challenge; she was ready for a fight, but he was determined not to give her one.

"Shepard." His voice was calm, but his harmonics hummed with desperation. He hoped she didn't catch any of it; she was too damn perceptive sometimes. "I'm sorry for how I acted. I know it's your decision. I do. And you may be right. We'll sit down and discuss it, and if –" He swallowed hard. "If the decision's the same, I'll drive you there. I'll try to find a way to be okay with that. But I need you to understand. This child means everything to me. She will be our child, our daughter, and we will raise her to be strong and – Shep, please. Don't do this to me."

"You said you'd given up having children for me."

"That's not the same! Shep, I thought we would never conceive, and I wasn't going to leave you and find a turian woman to have children. I was alright with adopting, but our own biological child, not just an idea, but one who's already growing inside you –" Garrus faltered. Her eyes had slid away as he spoke. What was she – "Shep … we were going to adopt eventually, weren't we?"

"I only said maybe," she answered, still not looking at him.

Garrus felt all the strength drain out of his legs and he had to sit down. "You were never going to have children with me? You just decided we weren't having a family, and you never bothered to tell me?"

"Garrus, listen –"

"Leave me the child," he said in a rush. "I'll support every expense, give you anything you want, just don't kill my daughter. I'll raise her. We'll never ask you for anything. I'll tell her that her mother died, or whatever you like. Shepard, please." His desperation could no longer be contained by his subvocals, they bled out into the tones she could hear. Even the fucking _translator_ could feel his hurt by this point.

"I'm not having it. This discussion is over." She walked briskly to the door.

Garrus panicked, finding the strength to stand and lumber towards her. He didn't touch her, just stood close. "If you do this, Shepard, I promise you, there is nothing left for us. I swear to you, you will never see me again." His tone was tight with barely-controlled fury. In that moment, he could have happily killed her, endured the humiliation of a trial, gone to his execution with a smile on his face … if it meant his daughter would live. The daughter she was carrying, and Garrus's voice broke as he begged her: "Please, spirits; Shep, you cannot do this to me. If you could just explain to me _why_ …."

Shepard's only response was to open the door and walk away.

#

When Shepard came back to the apartment, it was dark out, although Garrus wasn't sure quite when that had happened. He didn't remember it having been light at all. He sat up too quickly when the door opened and the wave of dizziness that crashed over him nearly took him out; he hadn't eaten or drunk anything the entire day. Then it passed, his vision cleared, and he could see her standing in the doorway. Her face was blank as he looked at her, the hope that she'd changed her mind, was going to talk with him first, so exquisitely painful that for a moment he couldn't even breathe. Then without speaking, she turned away from him and walked into the bedroom, locking the door behind her.

Garrus got up slowly. One part of his mind marveled at the fact that he could be in so much physical pain without having injured himself. He vision doubled as he lurched toward the door.

Then he stepped out of their old apartment, not looking back.


	3. Three Years Later

Three Years Later

Garrus stood at the bridge of his own ship, waiting for the rest of the team he'd been promised. The last three years he'd been heavily focused on his work, to the point that he was surely becoming the Council's top Spectre already. Well, after Shepard herself, but … he couldn't really think about her anymore. He hadn't seen her since he'd left, had no desire to.

"Reporting in."

So of course she was the one assigned to this mission with him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. She looked well. She'd let her hair grow a little longer; it almost brushed her shoulders. Everything else was the same, the same face he'd watched every night while falling asleep, the same voice he would listen to –

"I was told I'd get to kill some slavers." Shepard shrugged; of course. If they were trying to infiltrate a slaver ring, they probably wanted a human Spectre. Humans were popular on the slave market for being strong workers with very little ability to resist once they were broken. Why did it have to be her, though?

_Be serious, Vakarian. Out of the few human Spectres, how many look like that?_ Of course, that would likely be a problem.

"You're too recognizable," he said. "I can't use you."

"You'd be surprised how different we look with a little change in hair color. Most non-humans have trouble telling humans apart, anyway."

"If they figure it out –"

"I know the risks. Where am I bunking?"

Garrus sighed. The little bit of influence he'd once been able to exert to keep her safe was clearly gone. Although, how could he have expected any different? He'd told her they were done, and then left. No matter the reason why.

#

Shep settled into her bunk, which for her meant shoving her bag of clothes into a drawer without unpacking. Lacking anything else to do, she opened the now-uncooperative drawer – _why do the damn things never work when they're properly full?_ – and pulled her packet of hair color out. Luckily, it hadn't exploded in her duffel. Unluckily, she now had to color her hair, by herself. She was certain she'd mess it up, leaving red-gold streaks in the back where she couldn't see.

"Captain Vakarian," she asked the intercom.

"_Yes, Shepard, what is it?"_ He sounded irritated.

"I'm not sure I can properly dye my hair. Think I need some help." She waited for him to answer, hoping he'd come help. He'd always been fascinated by her hair.

"_Hang on,"_ he said, and she smiled. Good. Three years was a long time, after all. She was ready for forgive him. She missed him, and she was willing to bet he'd missed her, too.

Garrus did not show up; instead another human on the crew arrived, some young girl Shepard didn't know. She masked her disappointment while the girl worked on her hair. Every few minutes the kiddo commented on what a shame it was to cover the red.

"For the mission," Shepard growled.

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, I know. I mean –" Shepard glared at her in the bathroom mirror until she shut up. Once it was quiet, she started thinking about how to get Garrus alone for a talk. He'd insisted that all he had wanted was a conversation; she could manage that. Now that she was decided, she relaxed under the girl's fingers as the color was worked in. The girl left, explaining how to properly rinse it when the timer on her omni-tool went off. Shepard wasn't really listening. She was busy planning a conversation with Garrus.

#

"So, what do you think?"

Garrus set his food down and had to look closely before he could reconcile that voice with the new person standing in front of him. _Guess she was right; color makes a huge difference._ He thought her smell would at least be the same, but when she came closer, all he could smell was the chemicals that had darkened her hair to black.

"The smell will wear off, won't it?" he asked. If she said no, he could bar her from the mission.

"It should. So, look, Garrus. I think I owe you a conversation."

Garrus stiffened. "I'm not discussing this."

"Garrus, if you knew my reasons –"

"If you'd bothered to tell me three years ago, I'd know them." Spirits, he wished she were turian. If she were turian, they could fight it out. Couldn't with humans; they had different rules, especially regarding their women. _Although the man who thinks he'd survive abusing this particular woman wouldn't live long enough to regret it._

Unfortunately, she had known him long enough to read the sudden tension.

"You want a spar, big guy?"

"Don't call me that. And I'm not in the mood for a spar." He didn't know why she had to show up again after three years. He didn't know why she had to be acting so friendly.

"Come on, you're not scared of me, are you? I'm not scared of you." Garrus's mandibles moved slowly out and back in. She was his ex-lover. His ex-lover who'd killed his baby and hadn't even told him why, or asked him not to leave. He couldn't lay a hand on her.

"Spectre Vakarian," she said. "I will need to know that my team has kept up in their hand to hand skills. My life will be depending on you."

Shit. She was also a soldier and had a very good point. "Ten minutes, then. Time enough to let the crew know, to lay down bets." It was a common event with a turian or mostly-turian crew; and besides, it gave him an excuse not to be alone with her. And witness.

Shepard smiled at him and nodded before leaving the room.

"Is that the one who used to be your bondmate?" a turian from the engine rooms asked. Garrus was hurt by the usage "used to;" she would always be his bondmate. That thought was pushed aside as he realized he was sitting in the middle of the mess, several different soldiers and members of the crew watching him intently.

"Yeah, that's the one." He tried to be casual. For all they knew, it just hadn't worked out.

"Eight to one on the petite human! Can our Captain even strike at his beautiful – but deadly – human mate?" Garrus sighed. It was going to be a long mission.

#

Shepard was waiting for him when he stepped into the ring. He stripped out of the outer parts of his uniform, listening to the jeers and catcalls. It sounded like some people were going to be unhappy when he won this thing.

"You ready?" she asked him. He lifted his chin, waiting for the judge to signal them to start.

At soon as she heard it, she was moving. Garrus had to dance backwards quickly; he was fast for a turian, but he'd forgotten just how fast humans could be. Especially one particular human who trained intensely and had gotten upgrades after her resurrection. In fact –

The crowd cheered as she landed a blow to the face. Full-strength, not holding back. What else had he expected from her? He resolved to pay more attention, and quickly found himself losing everything else as he focused on the fight. Just like old times. He feinted a bit, trying to see if she had been keeping up her hand-to-hand in the last few years, relaxing as they fell into their familiar rhythm. She had always been a good match for him in the ring. He had the strength advantage, the height advantage, and more power than she could muster. On the other hand, she was ridiculously fast and could take any hit he threw. By the time he landed his first blow against her – to the disappointment of his crew – he'd forgotten he was ever angry with her and was just enjoying the contest.

The crowd became less enthused as the fight wore on. Each scored plenty of hits, but neither could gain a clear advantage. Shep grinned at him, face bleeding and eyes bruised. He tried to grin back, but one of his mandibles was hanging loosely – _probably dislocated_ - and he had a sneaking suspicion she'd managed to crack on his ribs. When the fight was finally called, it was a draw, and the crew dispersed, grumbling. Garrus sat down, panting. Shepard came over to sit by him, and he had a moment to wonder if they might be able to be friends again, somehow. He missed that almost more than the other.

"So, how do you usually break ties on turian ships?" she asked.

Just like that, the moment was gone. He got up abruptly, leaving her there. She clearly hadn't given a thought to his feelings on the matter, just thought that since she wanted to, they would jump right back in.

#

They didn't speak again until the mission. Garrus knew she had been trying to say something to him, but he left whenever she entered a room. Finally, she'd left him alone, and he pretended she wasn't there. He got the feeling that she was plotting, that she thought she could get him back if she caught him the right way, but he wasn't interested.

Now, he was speaking to the handful of human volunteers, all special ops who were ready to pretend at slavery so they could catch a group that had been doing big business in the Traverse selling captives. Garrus's crew were all turian, as the reports of the attacks were of turian pirates who were taking the victims.

Shepard arrived, and he tossed her a collar. "Put this on." He didn't like it, but they were all wearing them. They had to look the part, which meant training collars for new slaves. The black eyes Shepard had earned in the ring were coming along nicely, and most of the other humans were slightly bruised up, as well. He hoped they knew what they were doing.

"Above all, do not antagonize them. Rescue shouldn't be too long. This is a business for them, so they won't damage any of you if you pretend to behave. You will be tracked with the collars and implants. If we lose contact before Spectre Shepard gives the signal, we will still come find you. If anyone wants to back out, there's still time." No one did. From the files on them, it seemed most of them were openly gunning for a Spectre position; they couldn't back out of something like this without losing the chance.

Shepard was still struggling with her collar.

"Shepard, you need to wear that. You need to look the part and your communicator's in it." Garrus tried not to think of all the things that might go wrong.

"Trying. Not designed for human hands," she grumbled, fumbling with it.

He took it from her hands and gestured for her to turn. Then he fastened it around her neck, making sure it looked right without being too uncomfortable. "Are you sure?" he asked.

She was holding her hair up off her neck, and he had to fight a desire to run a talon down her neck gently. He'd been with plenty of women in the last three years. Always after confirming they were both on medications that made conception impossible, and with condoms, besides. There hadn't been anyone like Shepard in that time, though.

_Get it together. She destroyed you last time._ He dropped his hands to his sides.

"I'm good. Garrus … I really did want to talk to you."

"We have a mission," he told her, hoping that would be the end of it.

#

After all the worry, all the planning, this mission had gone over insanely well. Shepard and her group had infiltrated successfully, acquired weapons, then given the signal. Garrus's team had fought their way through and they had broken the back of this particular slaver ring, with no losses on their side. Exactly the sort of results one would expect with The Shepard fighting with them. Garrus had spent the trip back to the Citadel hiding, and sent in a request that he not be assigned with Shepard ever again. He just wanted to forget about her.

So of course, she showed up again. She always did. He had hidden away in a bar she didn't know on Zakera Ward, and she had found him anyway. He leaned against the bar, trying to ignore as she stood silently next to him.

"I was wondering if maybe we could talk," she said. Garrus could only stare, incredulous. "Come on, Garrus, I owe you a beer at least."

Garrus opened his mouth, intending to tell her to go to hell, she'd ruined his life, and if she even thought for one second -

"Besides," she continued, "I thought we could actually have that conversation."

Garrus closed his mouth slowly. Was she actually trying? Did she actually care about him in some specific way, and not the general way she tried to hunt down the best outcome for everyone, even strangers? She'd always been so good at making people feel valued; the one time he needed that, she had failed him.

_Or I failed her. Don't forget your part in it, Vakarian._ No, he could never forget his part. Maybe if he could have found the right words, they would still be together. Maybe even the child -

"It's a little late for that conversation, Shepard," he said quietly.

Shepard's face fell. "Oh … cause I was … I feel sometimes like I made a mistake … and maybe if I could talk through it, I'd … It might help you, too?" Garrus ignored the last part; he'd gotten over where he thought she was deliberately manipulating him. It was just who she was. It was how she had gotten everyone together to stop the Reapers. Instead, he just looked at her face, for once open and vulnerable. So often, you forgot that she had feelings underneath the façade. Then she let them out for a moment, and he was helpless to do anything to hurt her further. Even though it would kill him to bring this up again.

"Let's get a booth, then, Shepard," he sighed, pushing away from the bar. He had left her because she wouldn't have this conversation with him. Now, he was the one who wanted to run. Wanted to pretend everything was fine. But she was hurting, and even if she'd broken his heart, he still loved her.

He slipped into a booth, chuckling slightly as she brought out two notepads and a couple of pens. Pros and cons lists. Then she sat down with him, and they talked it out. Shepard started with the likelihood that a turian-human hybrid probably wouldn't have lived, and Garrus returned that Shepard had always made a habit of doing impossible things.

They talked through every point they could, drinking far more than the single beer she'd promised, and at the end, Shep smiled in relief, her eyes shining with tears that she still wouldn't let fall.

"I would've made the same decision. Garrus, I -" She covered her face, and miracle of miracles, she actually _was_ crying now. "I'd thought I made a mistake. I would have done the same thing. I don't have to feel guilty about it."

"That's good, Shepard." Garrus tried to fight the rage building. They could have discussed it. They could have discussed it, she still would have reached the same conclusion, and he wouldn't have had to leave her. He'd still be mourning a loss, but he would have still been able to look at her face. He had known this conversation wasn't going to help him.

"So … since that's done … maybe we could go have dinner sometime?" Shepard smiled at him, wiping her eyes. When Garrus only stared, she continued. "I mean, now we know it would have all gone the same way, so -"

"No." He said it quietly, without rancor.

"No?" Shep asked. Confusion was written all over her face; well, how often did she have to deal with the word 'no?'

"No, Shepard. When I told you there'd be nothing left, I was telling you the truth. You can't just undo the last three years. Shepard, let me just ask you: did you even have a single thought about what your decision would do to me? Did you even remember I was involved?"

"That's not fair. I was scared –"

"You told me you weren't. But fine, skip that one. It's really only a symbol, anyway. Shepard, I was willing to die for you. I followed you to the ends of the galaxy on three separate occasions. I was willing to give up biological children for you, and if you'd told me you didn't want any at all, I'd have probably given up adopting children, as well. And in all that time, were you willing to even spare a thought for what I needed?"

She flushed dully, eyes dropping to the table. He didn't want to tell her these things, but if he didn't make her understand, she would want to have this conversation again. And again.

Garrus got up then, wavering slightly; how many had he had? He should not have drunk so much. Already, he wasn't sure if what he was saying was fair or true, just that it had felt true. He left some credits on the table, trying not to look at her. If she looked hurt, he would stay. He wouldn't be able to live with her, he would despise himself, but he would stay. He had already let her have one brutal conversation at him. He couldn't handle a lifetime of sleeping next to her, knowing that they could have reached a decision together, instead of her dangling the hope of in front of him and then ripping it away, with never a concern that she might be injuring him too badly for it to ever heal.

Still without looking, he could feel her floundering for something to say. As he started to walk away, she grabbed his wrist.

"Garrus, wait, I … I mean, come on, you aren't going to hold it against me forever, right? I mean, I'm sorry I didn't talk it out with you beforehand. But it would have ended up the same, so why does it matter, now?"

Garrus gently removed the hand from his wrist. "It matters because you're the same person you always were. You wanted this conversation, and it never occurred to you to think it might hurt me. And you only apologize now because I'm walking away. Are you even sorry I'm miserable?" She didn't have an answer for that; he had been hoping she would. Just some acknowledgement that she was selfish, sometimes. That she would try not to be. He set her hand down on the table. "Shepard, I love you. I think I always will. But then I remember that you aren't really capable of loving me, Shep, and I can't. I can't do that. You can't ask me to. I know you want to be able to, and you're good at pretending, and that's almost enough. But you're never going to spare a thought for me when you've got something more important on your mind. I'm sorry, Shep."

Garrus started moving toward the exit then, not sure if he wanted her to fight for him, or let him go. His steps slowed as he approached the door. Shit. He wanted her to say she'd try. He wanted to believe. He wanted to stay.

But when he glanced back at her, she was staring down at the table, so in the end he walked away.

#

Shepard glanced up quickly as he left. She knew she could call him back. She'd talked half the galaxy into doing exactly what she wanted, she could do this.

But if he was right ….

She tried to remember something she had done just for him. Something, anything, that she had done just to make him happy. She couldn't think of anything. So instead she watched him walk away, knowing that she could make him stay and not knowing whether she should. She dropped her eyes when he started to turn back. If she knew she would try to be better, she could call him back. They could try again. She knew that's what he wanted. But she was letting him walk away. If she knew she was letting him go because it was best for him, then she could call him back. But she had a suspicions she was letting him walk away because trying to be better would be too hard. In that case, it would be cruel to ask it of him.

So instead, she just sat, uncertain, letting him walk out of her life for what would likely be the last time. There was a fifty-fifty chance it was the least selfish thing she'd ever done.


End file.
